Ebony Silk and Charcoal Rain
by Momosportif
Summary: Kanda centric fic written just because I wanted to explore the tender side of him and the type of past he must of had to shape him into what he is now. I hope you read, review, and most importantly, enjoy. Characters are Hoshino's. Smile!


When he was very small there was a beautiful woman who hovered at the edges of his existence. Or perhaps she was the core of his existence and he hovered around her, but he does not quite remember. He is a man of the present (at least he labors under this illusion. He knows all about illusions) and remembers only things that are important. The first thing he remembers is this moth of a human who never landed in the spot light surrounding him but flitted on the cusp of the glow and held him in her feathery arms saying (always saying),

"My baby, my baby! Look at those round little cheeks! And those stocky limbs! All the women out in the rice cluck and titter about how such a plump, healthy baby must surely grow into a tall man. You will outgrow us all, my baby, my baby." He does not remember this next part (or so he tells himself) but he would always gurgle in a cheery reply (in his mind, after all, he was never an infant). During this time he was Yu, and only Yu. He was surrounded by Kandas but he was Yu. And most importantly, as he grew in his illuminated world, he was her baby.

And then Yu was her child (her child, her child) who she could not hold aloft anymore (her tender hands dared not attempt the weight although it had only stretched, not increased. It was she who had become weaker not he who had become heavier. But moths cannot be blamed for keeping their tawny dust as long as possible). Now she clasped tiny hands, white and soft as lily petals and jasmine tea, and whispered, always whispered,

"My child, my child! What pretty hair! Your father chides me for fawning over it so and wishes me to cut it, but we will hold out a bit longer," (It was their secret), "A bit longer just to show him how beautiful it could be. Like ebony silk, my child. Imagine! Ebony silk, my child, my child." Again, a gap in his recollection follows but he always smiled and played with her willow twig fingers before curling into a ball to nap in his always-sunny world and dream of ebony silk.

But one day she was gone. The light turned off and the moth had no more reason to stray across his path. This was the day Yu disappeared, disappeared in the shadows and learned to see in the dark. Without Yu he was Kanda and Kanda was alone and they were both lost.

Kanda became a moth.

He fluttered by other lights hoping to find his own moth and her willow twigs and lily petals and ebony silk. But he was alone. Always.

Then one day he came upon the grandest light of all. It lit up the whole world and warmed all the souls that inhabited it. Never had he been so afraid. Afraid with his poorly cropped scruff of hair, afraid with his jasmine tea dreg hands, afraid that he would burn because this light was inescapable. But then it dimmed. He fluttered forward and discovered that it was like all other lights: a person stood inside it, oblivious to the darkness.

But this person was different. When his old eyes lifted to Kanda's direction, Kanda could tell he could see him, see into the darkness. But that was not even the whole of it. His eyes could speak and they said (as he kneeled to be at Kanda's level), always said,

"My baby, my baby." And he was in the light again but not burning. Kanda was found. He saw himself in the horsefly lenses that reflected every image facing them and knew he was found (although, he now reasons, how could he be found if he wasn't lost? He has never been weak, after all). So it was no wonder that he followed the horsefly eyes and accepted a light of his own, one that could illuminate the world (and this was the one time he'd been truly happy because now he could slaughter all the moth killing demons he wanted).

And soon he was growing again, weight stretching up towards the light's core. And the horsefly eyes smiled as they watched him (skillfully now, not sloppily) shear his fine hair every month and dispose of the resulting silk ribbons (which he later discovered with disgust were all amassed and dotingly collected by an artist's deceitful hands). This time the eyes chuckled,

"My child, my child," and the mouth added, "You should really grow it out, you know," (he lifted his head to study the landscape), "It'd be really beautiful… like charcoal rain."

"Che." (Che, indeed! Charcoal rain, how preposterous! The addled brains of artists irritated him to no end).

Now he is no child. Nor is he yet a man. He is eighteen (with a long trail of ebony rain and charcoal silk behind him) and is still Kanda.

Only Kanda.

For a while, Yu would occasionally appear in the horsefly's reflections but he disappeared again and though he will not admit it, took Kanda with him. Moths, after all, can't change what they are. So for a time they will both be lost and slash through the dark with their back to the light, not to ignore it but to protect it (although Kanda really thinks he's ignoring it. How much can a child really know though?) And Kanda Yu will look for someone. Not "that someone" (Kanda alone waits for "that") but _ a_ someone.

Kanda Yu always looks you in the eyes before passing judgment on your character (it is an irreversible and quick judgment but at least he gives you a chance). And he is looking for eyes that talk. He is looking for eyes that smile. He is looking for someone with willow twig fingers and jasmine tea and lily petals who will brush his ebony rain and charcoal silk. He is looking for someone who will hold him and whisper,

"My baby, my baby."


End file.
